The Lost Idol
by sweetstache
Summary: AU [postCotBP]. Bootstrap is back. Jack's past comes back to haunt him. As a new curse threatens the lives of hundreds, newlyweds Will and Elizabeth are whisked into yet another adventure. WE, almost JA.
1. The Traitor

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

A/N: This is old. It takes place after Curse of the Black Pearl, before the terrible sequels Dead Man's Chest and At World's End came into existence (yes, I found them terrible because they took away the magic of the first). This has been done in a lazy, inconsistent manner over the past two years, so I'm revisiting my work and editing bits here and there before I attempt to finish the latest chapter. Apologies to all readers and kind reviewers I let down.

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**Chapter 1: The Traitor**

Raucous singing filled the air as the natives danced in the circle of light cast by the bonfire, their faces alight with unrestrained joy. Merrily the fire crackled on, stoked by the ocean breeze, its flames leaping into the air. Amongst the embers cast about the night sky, the moon hung high against a backdrop of deep blue velvet, its pale face mirrored in the calm waters below.

William 'Bootstrap Bill' Turner sat alone some distance away, leaning against a tree, a bottle of rum in one hand. The whispers of the wind and the sea came up close from afar, and Bill closed his eyes, listening to the spirited wind dancing through the leaves, the kind waves breaking in a quiet rhythm against the shore. Such beautiful, familiar sounds, yet always vague, muffled. So much was lingering there, at the horizon, just out of reach. But tonight it was different, somehow. Through a window and into a strange expanse of foggy darkness, Bill was seeking, remembering.

It had been so long. Ten years. More than that, even. Almost eleven, he would say, but he couldn't be sure. Wasn't easy to keep track of time when one was stuck on an island with no prospect of leaving it. But he had learnt, however reluctantly, to wander instead in the cane fields that were the island's wealth; day after day he would silently swing his machete at the thick, rich stalks of sugarcane, his back turned to the shoreline, resolute. Only under the cover of night would he allow himself to crawl back to the beach, sink down on the sand and soothe his feet in the cool water. It was the closest he could ever get to finding refuge, but each time he found himself by the ocean's edge, fierce passion and longing threatened to tear him apart.

Ah, but things had changed now. After ten long and arduous years, he was finally returning to her. A thrill swept through him as he recalled splendid days spent at sea, battling the most glorious storms with the rain pelting the deck and their backs, and riding great rolling waves alongside the dolphins as white foam streaked the waters. He never thought he would get to go back to that life. But the sea was a fickle mistress, dangerous and enchanting and unfathomable, drawing men to her with alluring promises of adventure and freedom. And he had to wonder if she would accept him again.

"Bootstrap!"

Glancing up at the call of his name, Bill was met with the sight of a beaming young lad scampering towards him. The boy's face was flushed from all that dancing and running around, and from the rum he had consumed. As he plopped down on the ground next to Bill, he raised one hand and tousled his own short auburn hair, making it messier than it had already been.

"What's with that, Kip?" asked Bill.

"What?" Kip's voice was even more chirpy than usual.

"That. You keep doing that thing with your hair."

"Oh, _that_." With a mischievous grin, Kip replied, "Why, to impress the ladies, of course. Don't you think it's charming?"

Bill chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Ain't no ladies to impress out here, lad."

"There used to be one, on the ship that I'd worked on."

The casual remark caught Bill by surprise. He had known Kip for several weeks already, since the day the boy had washed ashore with nothing but the soaked tatters of his clothes. Mostly Bill had been the one to take care of him, giving him food and water as well as work to do to help take his mind off things, and that had marked the beginning of their friendship. Yet, he now realized that Kip had never really told anyone about his past. Frowning, Bill asked, "Which ship did you belong to, then?"

"The Avenger."

It took some time for Bill to process that information. Then he gawked at Kip. "You're a bloody _pirate_?"

"Aye!" Kip seemed very pleased, and Bill thought the boy was rather drunk. The two fell into companionable silence, though it was not long before Kip piped up.

"You miss her, don't you?"

Bill gave him a questioning look.

"The sea," explained Kip. "I can tell from that look in your eyes. You want to go back to her."

In a low voice, Bill said, "The sea calls to me, lad. Could never stay away from her for longer than a month or two." He sighed. "Not even for love."

"Do you…" Kip hesitated some before he went on. "D'you have family out there?"

"You're a sharp one, Kip." Sighing again, Bill took another gulp of rum before saying, "I might still have a son, I think. At least, I very much hope so."

Kip said nothing more. Silence fell between them once more as they stared out to sea, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Suddenly a little white dot appeared on the horizon, steadily growing larger and brighter. Kip perked up, watching the ship as it neared. As the crew scurried around on deck, their moving lamps eventually caused the dot to split into several tiny flickering spots of light… until they formed a straight line.

The signal.

Kip immediately felt all his senses go on full alert. Straightening himself, he turned to Bill, ready to say something, his mind racing to come up with any sort of excuse for leaving. But before he had any chance to do so, the older man spoke.

"Why don't you go get them on duty some drinks?"

It was more of a statement than a question. Kip understood the man's implicit request for some time alone. He merely nodded and rose, heading back towards the area near the bonfire where, hopefully, there were still some bottles of rum left for those unfortunate enough to be on guard duty and had to miss the celebration.

* * *

In the very heart of the plantation, amidst rows and rows of sugar canes, there stood a stone pedestal which had been there for as long as anyone could remember. On it was an idol, made entirely out of coconut husk, dried leaves and twine, in the rough shape of a monkey's skull. It was small and round and furry, much like the handmade toy of a child. Yet it was heavily guarded by the natives, day and night, unchanging for years, for it was said that once the idol was removed from the pedestal, disaster would befall the inhabitants of that island. Indeed, it was difficult to imagine that the idol held such power, and to some, the idea of having people protect it constantly was almost laughable. It was this that had led to the argument which was taking place while others were celebrating their success in rum trade that night. 

"Why are we protecting the stupid dried coconut?"

"You know the legend too. This is our duty."

"But I want to drink rum!"

"Don't be an idiot! This is much more important than rum."

"But I want rum!"

"Be silent! And the coconut is not stupid."

There was a rustle, a soft "Oof!" and a clank of glass as someone tripped and fell onto the soft ground, cursing. The mysterious intruder was revealed to be Kip, who picked himself and the rum bottles up, still swearing fervently under his breath. He looked up at the two natives on duty, who simply stared back, apparently impressed with the way he had involved the use of more than one language in venting his annoyance.

"Uh… drinks, anyone?" Kip felt rather awkward holding out the bottles of rum to two people who seemed as though they had just seen elephants do cartwheels in front of them.

The man who had been defending the coconut responded first, accepting the rum with a grateful smile. Upon spotting the rum, his partner did the same.

Kip plopped himself down, leaning against the stone pedestal and taking sips of the drink instead of large gulps, unlike his companions. It was not long before both guards passed out.

Smiling grimly, Kip got to work.

* * *

The party was almost over by the time Bill realized Kip was taking an unusually long time to return. With a curious mind, he headed for the center of the plantation. 

When he reached the pedestal, he found two guards lying dead drunk on the ground, one snoring loudly in his sleep. There was no sign of Kip.

"Kip!" shouted Bill, his eyes sweeping the area. His gaze fell on the pedestal.

The idol had vanished.

* * *

Bill stumbled a second time and decided to slow down when he suddenly spotted the natives' chief, who was sitting with one arm on his knee and looking extremely satisfied. As he approached the chief, he wondered how best to break the news of the missing idol to him. 

"Hello, Bootstrap," Chief Cheeto greeted him with a smile. However, when he took in the grave expression on Bill's face, he turned sober. "What is wrong?"

"The idol," replied Bill, his tone serious. "It's gone."

He watched the chief's warm grey eyes darken, his lips forming into a thin line. The man stood up and whispered some instructions to one of the natives nearby, who hurried off.

"Chief…"

"The people have a right to know."

* * *

It took quite a while to gather all the natives around the pedestal. 

Chief Cheeto stood before them, his intense gaze settling on the face of each individual present. He opened his mouth, about to address the issue at hand.

A sudden explosion of white light seemed to burst out of nowhere, blinding everyone. Heads turned in all directions, some inclined towards the sky, as the baffled natives searched wildly for the source of the brightness. Until a voice boomed, loud, clear, and coldly disappointed, "You have lost the idol.

"The people are divided. Each day we witness conflicts and disputes, fights and struggles. What faith you once had in us is now gone. We can protect you no longer."

A second voice spoke. This time round it was female, and gentler than the previous one.

"But all is not lost. There is one amongst you who is in our debt. It is he who must retrieve the lost idol. You must come together as one, and restore the connection between us and your world."

The first voice was back, delivering a final, ominous statement.

"And now, it begins."

The light slowly faded away, and Bill assumed the voices had gone as well, leaving them in almost complete darkness once more, with only the faint glow of the moon still upon them.

* * *

TBC 


	2. A Message From Someone Forgotten

**Chapter 2: A Message From Someone Forgotten**

The door slammed shut as Anamaria strode into the cabin.

"Why are we going to Port Royal?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

Jack calmly took off his leather coat and seated himself at his mahogany desk, beautifully designed with ornate carvings. Apparently not at all bothered by the presence of his first mate, he proceeded to remove his effects, replying evenly, "To pick up some supplies, give the crew a break, visit an old friend or two, attend the occasional wedding—"

"You can't be thinking of going to Will and Elizabeth's wedding!"

"Why, love, I am. Is there a problem?" Jack's eyebrows were raised.

"Jack, it's only been five months." Anamaria's temper subsided somewhat, but she definitely still did not look happy with the captain's decision. He had just informed the crew that those who did not wish to be in close proximity to the Navy could stay in Tortuga for some time, for he planned to set sail for Port Royal, which had fairly upset her.

Propping his booted feet on the desk, Jack leaned back in his chair and remarked in a casual tone, "Aye. Who would've thought the whelp could take such quick action? Not a eunuch, then. Maybe."

"Jack…" Anamaria looked exasperated. "Norrington'll have his men watching out for you."

"I know. I'll wave to anyone I recognize."

A smile teased Anamaria's lips, and she made every effort not to laugh. This did not escape Jack's notice, however, who was grinning broadly, revealing four gold-capped teeth that glinted in the candlelight.

"You're daft, Jack."

"Never claimed to be otherwise. Besides, sanity is overrated."

Anamaria rolled her eyes.

"I'll try my hardest to keep myself out of the gaol, alright?" He assured her, then, when Anamaria made no move to leave, he commented, "Are you going to exit my cabin anytime soon, love, or were you hoping to stay the night?"

A loud slap resounded through the room.

* * *

Jack inhaled deeply as he sauntered along the cobbled streets of Tortuga, taking in the familiar aroma of liquor, smoke and human perspiration that a normal civilian would find overpowering. Amidst the shrieking voices, mad laughter and frequent strings of curses, scantily-clad strumpets called out invitingly while drunken ruffians engaged themselves in a heated brawl or two. Tortuga was in its usual, noisy state of complete chaos.

"We could've just dropped by and been on our way," muttered Anamaria, who did not appear to be in as high spirits as her companion.

"No hurry, love. It'd be good for you to loosen up a bit, too," said Jack, waving his hands about in a ridiculously exaggerated manner. "Ah, the _Faithful Bride_. C'mon, I'll treat you to a drink!"

As they approached the tavern's entrance, the wooden door swung open and a hooligan staggered out, reeking strongly of alcohol and swaying dangerously, before abruptly emptying his stomach's contents into a puddle that narrowly missed the pirates' feet. Anamaria scowled at the man, then at Jack, who beamed, flung out an arm and made a low, sweeping bow, like a gentleman giving way to a lady. Anamaria ignored him completely and entered the inn. Not in the least bit offended, Jack followed.

"Captain Sparrow!" The barman called once he noticed Jack come in. Jack, pleased at the use of his title, decided that he would buy a few more drinks that night.

"A message for you! 'S from a William Turner!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. What would the whelp be doing in Tortuga? He glanced at Anamaria, who was equally puzzled. Jostling his way through the rowdy crowd, he collected the tattered piece of paper from the barman's grimy hands. There were blotches of smudged ink here and there, and whoever had written it had obviously tried to make his handwriting as legible as possible. The strokes were rough, uneven, as if they had been done by a very shaky hand, but strangely familiar.

The extremely short note read:

_Jack,_

_Meet me at the Drunken Donkey, as soon as possible._

_William Turner._

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TBC


	3. Bootstrap's Story

A/N: I have reviews! Awesome! Didn't really expect to get any for the first two chapters. Thanks, guys (: Well, here's the next installment. Personally, I'm not too happy with this chapter, but hopefully you guys won't find it too disappointing. Don't forget to review!

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**Chapter 3: Bootstrap's Story  
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Jack hurried up the road, taking light, brisk steps, his usual swaggering gait absent. Wary of any sneaky persons tailing him, he threw a cursory glance over his shoulder every now and then, but there were no suspicious characters to be dealt with. Before leaving the _Faithful Bride _he had insisted that Anamaria stay behind and not follow him. Surprisingly, the lass had complied without asking a single question, for which he was grateful.

_Can it be true?_ he wondered to himself. _It's possible, of course… anything's possible. But… bloody hell, it's not possible! Is it? But… how? _Jack shook his head forcefully, as if to clear his befuddled thoughts. Yet the questions kept coming. Jack was sure he would soon get a headache worse than a hangover, even before he had any drinks. _This is going to be one hell of an interesting meeting_, he thought.

Soon the pirate arrived at the shabby inn, its loosely-hanging signboard poorly carved with the words _The_ _Drunken Donkey_. There were no signs of the typical din — no boisterous laughter, no noisy conversations. In fact, _nothing_ could be heard from outside. Jack hesitated. _What if it's some well-conceived ruse, some sort of trap? But no, the script on that letter was too alike… _Pulling his tricorn hat low over his eyes, he pushed the tavern door open.

The place was deserted, save for the man at the counter, idly wiping mugs with a filthy cloth; a drunk sprawled on the floor with an empty mug still in his hand; and a lone figure in a dark corner, nursing a drink. Though the man raised his head when he heard the door open, Jack could not make out his features as they were hidden in the shadows. He approached the stranger cautiously.

"'Ello, Jack."

The voice was hoarse, gruffer than Jack would have expected, but it definitely convinced him of who he had believed the man to be. William Turner Senior looked up, troubled bluish-grey eyes meeting with carefully guarded brown ones. Though Jack was fully aware that it had been more than ten years, Bill seemed much older and wearier than he could remember him ever being. Lines were deeply etched on his weather-beaten face; his cheeks were sunken, his frame thinner. Jack thought he could see a tinge of an unnatural paleness beneath the tan, but in the dim lighting he couldn't be sure.

Only a few moments after Jack had finished assessing the appearance of the man before him did the truth really register.

_Bill is alive._

Jack thought he might faint, or puke, or wet his breeches. The notion was so incomprehensible, so overwhelming, so bloody shocking; it reverberated inside him like an endless echo as he tried to grasp the situation that had just been presented to him. _Bill's right here… he's not dead… he ain't lying at the bottom of the sea… _Jack had a sudden urge to laugh, loudly and maniacally, but he restrained himself. Seems like he wasn't the only one capable of conjuring up miraculous escapes, after all. Or perhaps Barbossa was just hopelessly inept at planning to murder someone, the useless bastard.

"Jack," said Bill. When he received no response he repeated himself, "Jack. Jack, sit down, will you?"

Jack sat. At Bill's indication for another drink to be served, the barman grudgingly went over to their table (as though he had been rudely interrupted in the middle of something important), then plonked a partially filled mug down and stalked off.

Jack was staring at Bill with something akin to disbelief on his face, not due to the fact that the person sitting right before him was indeed alive and breathing, but because he could not understand how the man could handle everything with such calmness. However, he was shaken out of his reverie at the icy touch of a gnarled, trembling hand on his own.

"You… you ain't dead, either…" Bill's voice shook and cracked.

A weak "Bill, how…?" was all Jack could manage.

Bill did not answer that question. The explanation could wait. Right now there was another much more important piece of information to be confirmed.

"My son. Is my son alive?" he asked. Fear was clearly evident in his eyes.

"Aye," Jack replied quietly. Then, slipping back into his characteristic flippant tone, he added, "Positively thriving, in fact. Boy's getting married to a governor's daughter. Lovely woman, Elizabeth. I expect Will's been glowing with happiness every second of the day. Not a eunuch, I think. Love does do wonders, dunnit?"

Bill chuckled softly.

"You haven't changed one bit, Jack."

Jack grinned easily. After a while, dark brown eyes turned serious.

"Well then. Are you, by any chance, going to offer me a plausible, possibly lengthy explanation of how you survived having a two-ton cannon tied to your bootstraps and being sent to see Davy Jones?" he said, keeping his tone light, almost casual.

"Going to be a long story, Jack." Bill heaved a great sigh.

"More than ten years ago I found meself stuck at the bottom of the sea, chained to the damned cannon. Course, I couldn't die, since I was cursed just like all the other bastards who stole the Black Pearl." At this point he paused very briefly, having noticed the way Jack's face had hardened at the mention of the mutiny.

"But it wasn't a comfy spot to be in, the bottom of the sea. The pressure was crushing, and though I couldn't feel anything, I was sure me bones were gonna shatter any moment. But worst of all was the silence," Bill's voice had dropped lower, "It was quiet, so quiet… I thought I'd go mad. And the thought of spending eternity trapped in that silent, black, watery hell… It was unbearable.

"Until the heathen gods" — Jack raised an eyebrow — "decided to give me a way out. And I made a pact with 'em. They would help me escape the torture of having to spend eternity on the ocean floor. In return, I'd have to protect the idol of the first island I land on, even if it took my life. They'd even let me live amongst the natives of that island like a normal human. I'd still be cursed and unable to feel, but I wouldn't transform into a hideous, skeletal being under moonlight."

It hadn't been an easy decision, though. Perhaps he had deserved to be punished, to be stuck in the depths of the sea leading a meaningless, miserable existence till the end of time. For not having tried hard enough to prevent the mutiny. For having allowed Barbossa and his disloyal, black-hearted crew to hurt Jack the way they had.

Yet, while those blasted demons of his had been battling it out inside his brain, the more sensible, rational part of him had known that Jack would not have wanted him to waste his wretched half-life away pathetically wallowing in guilt and self-loathing. So he had accepted the gods' proposal, seeing it as a shot at redemption, even if he was sure there was no way he could have been able to make up for anything.

Bill took a deep breath before continuing, "For ten years I lived with the natives of the island I'd found myself on, pretending to be normal, learning to cope…"

"Until you realized the curse was broken," interjected Jack in a low voice.

"Aye. I thought… I thought I had lost both my boys — first you, then my son. I despaired."

And despaired he had, for he had believed that his new lease of life was marked by the end of another: his own child's. Past memories stirred as Bill recalled those long, cold nights when he had stood simply staring out to sea, contemplating suicide. After all, what had he to live for? _It's my fault that my son is dead_, he remembered thinking, _probably killed in the hands of the very man who's ruined Jack_. By sending one of the cursed Aztec gold coins to his son, he had condemned the boy to almost certain death. _And all for what, revenge?_ _Now that both Jack and Will are gone, there's really no one left in this world for you to worry about, William Turner, except, perhaps, a wife to whom you owe so much, you'll never be able to face. You don't even have the faintest idea whether she's dead or alive!_ There had been no doubt in his mind that he had failed terribly, as a father, as a husband… and as a friend.

"But then I heard the stories," Bill hurried on, the corners of his lips curving. "Stories of how the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow commandeered an entire Naval fleet, defeated a hundred bloodthirsty, undead pirates and regained control of the Black Pearl, meanwhile rescuing a damsel in distress and afterwards encouraging her to elope with a certain blacksmith who was really a pirate in disguise."

Jack smirked, giving a dismissive wave which Bill took to mean, "It was nothing."

"I found hope again. I decided to find you, Jack, and knowing you, the best place to look was Tortuga. But that night before I set sail, the idol went missing," said Bill, describing the situation with as much detail as he could recall. "I don't know what's going to happen now that the idol's lost, though…"

"Well, I don't suppose you'd want to find out, do you?"

"Fair point."

"But you have to get it back, this cursed idol?"

"Aye, that was the agreement. And I'm not sure if the idol's a curse or a blessing. I'd say it's more of a test of the natives' strength and unity, 'cause from what I heard Isla de Ron's been—"

"_Rum Island_?" Wide-eyed, Jack gaped at him.

"Aye, Jack," Bill responded, rolling his eyes. "They've been doing exceptionally well in rum trade all these years due to the presence of this idol. But now that it's gone…"

"I expect worse things'll happen besides a dip in rum trade," Jack commented darkly. He watched with mild interest as Bill reached under the table and, to his surprise, reappeared with a bottle containing rich amber liquid.

"Rum," stated Jack. Resisting the temptation to laugh, roll his eyes, or otherwise mock his friend for pointing out the obvious, Bill kept his face straight and nodded.

"From Rum Island." Another slight nod.

"For me?" At a third nod from Bill, the expression on Jack's face changed to that of a child who had just received a toy he had coveted all year long for Christmas. Gingerly, he uncorked the bottle and took a tentative sip.

"Tastes exactly like the rum we once stole from a governor's mansion," Jack remarked, rather impressed.

"Aye. Top quality," Bill muttered, peripherally aware that the bartender was glaring daggers at the two of them.

A grin slowly unfurled on Jack's face.

"You wouldn't happen to have another bottle of this with you, would you?"

"I do, actually," replied Bill, a little surprised.

"Excellent."

Bill narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why? You don't intend to drink yourself stupid, do you?"

There was no answer from Jack, who was suddenly deep in thought, his stare fixed on an invisible spot on the table, absently toying with his braided beard that was adorned with tiny, colorful beads. Bill waited patiently for him to break the silence. Finally Jack spoke.

"The Avenger, you say?"

"'S the only possibility I can think of," replied Bill. When Jack fell silent once more, he continued, "I know this must be hard to accept—"

"I need time," admitted Jack. "But the Black Pearl will always welcome you, William. And we'll be paying the Avenger a little visit soon."

Bill found reassurance in those dark, intense eyes. He nodded mutely, and felt an unexpected tightening in his chest as a surge of emotion welled up within. That Jack had trusted him enough to confess he needed more time to ponder over things, that he had accepted him so readily, despite the fact that he had not been there for him for over ten years, and was fully prepared to aid him in his search for the lost idol… it was all almost too much to take.

"And Jack, another thing…" For a moment Bill hesitated, knowing full well that what he was about to request was going to be a bloody huge favor.

Jack thought he knew what was coming.

"Will it be any trouble… I mean, if you could take me to my son…?"

"No trouble. No trouble at all," Jack consented to it wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into.

When Bill spoke again, his voice barely rose above a whisper.

"Thank you, Jack… for everything."

* * *

TBC


	4. Drinks All Around!

A/N: Alright, I admit it's my fault this took so long. School gets in the way sometimes, you know, but I guess if I hadn't spent so much time watching the anime Bleach, this chapter would've been done faster. And to make up for that, this chapter is longer than any of the previous ones. Quite a bit of fluff, but I don't want to rush things, earnest as I am at getting to develop the actual plot. Now we get to see Will and Elizabeth, a little of Norrington (who's not evil in my story) as well as lots of Jack.

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**Chapter 4: Drinks All Around!  
**

The governor's mansion was in a state of frenzy and organized chaos. Servants bustled around, carefully wiping, polishing and cleaning until every surface gleamed. Governor Swann himself was supervising the elaborate preparations, for the wedding of his only daughter was a much-anticipated event, and he would spare no expenses in ensuring it got all the celebration it deserved. Not a speck of dust could be seen on the stone mantels, on which glass and ivory figurines were placed, and the crystal chandeliers sparkled. The halls were draped in long flowing ribbons and filled with a lavish display of orange blossoms and pink roses. The air tingled with excitement. Out on the streets, civilians were chatting enthusiastically to one another, many hoping to be able to witness the eloquent splendor of the wedding. It almost seemed no grander affair had ever been held in the history of Jamaica.

Elizabeth sat very still in her room, so tightly laced-up in her corset that she was barely able to breathe. There were less than two hours before the ceremony began, and while her maid Estrella brushed her beautiful golden curls, she began to worry about Will, who had most probably worked himself into a bundle of nerves. Elizabeth was well aware of his fears of tarnishing the Swanns' already smeared reputation, for which she cared not, and of not fitting in with proper English society, not for lack of social graces — though it was certain her Will could be just as gentlemanly as any noble, and perhaps more so than some — but because he was beneath her station. She, too, had noticed the barely-contained whispers, the looks of disdain, and at times pity. She had heard about how unfortunate it was that she should fall in love with a blacksmith; a blacksmith was unbefitting of a governor's daughter, they say. The marriage was beyond inappropriate, it was audacious! And yet, not one of them had turned down the invitations.

Elizabeth sighed.

"I do hope Will's alright."

Estrella smiled reassuringly. "Mister Turner will be fine. You must be very happy to marry him, Miss."

"Yes, of course. I've never been happier," said Elizabeth, who would not have put up with wearing a corset on any other occasion.

"I did think you would prefer Mister Turner to the Commodore, Miss. He seemed more suited to you." The comment was a little too bold, but Elizabeth did not mind. She saw a tiny spark of mischievous spirit in Estrella's eyes.

"I am grateful to Commodore Norrington," she admitted. He had loved her, had done a great deal for her, even knowing she did not love him back. As she stared out the window, she recalled that day on the battlements of the fort, where James had unsheathed his sword and told Will, '_I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.'_ The words had been offered with sincerity, trust, and not a sign of bitterness. He had truly been able to let her go, and Elizabeth was glad. "He is a good man."

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Will Turner was nervous.

Even in all of his wildest dreams which revolved around Elizabeth, and which sometimes involved himself walking down the aisle with her as his beautiful bride, he had never envisioned performing the slow, light steps of the waltz with a hundred pairs of eyes on him. The fact that he had practiced everyday from when he first heard the rather distressing news that he was expected to dance during the wedding reception did little to boost his confidence. And while Elizabeth showed blithe disregard for the opinions of others, Will was determined not to disgrace his lady in front of her guests. Still, the very idea unnerved him. Dancing, of all things! But if it was what had to be done, then he would damn well make sure that he did a good job out of it.

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Evening fell. As the sun sunk lower, its last rays streaking the vast horizon with orange and lavender and pale rose, a lone figure crept along the walls of the governor's mansion, desperately wishing those heavy brick walls could be a little less solid or that he would be able to find a crack large enough to offer him a view of the festivities going on inside. Since neither wishes were likely to come true, he aimed for the nearest of the many stylish windows, through which soft light spilled out onto the grassy lawn. A gentle breeze drifted across the lush gardens, bringing with it the sweet scent of roses and violets. Jack allowed himself a tiny smile as the slow melody of strings floated to his ears. The pirate slinked towards his target, making very sure to keep to the shadows. He did not particularly fancy being caught sneaking outside the governor's residence, for it would mean yet another visit to the gaol, and he was sure Anamaria would not be overjoyed if that happened.

A cricket chirped, and he jumped, then silently cursed himself for being so edgy. What was he doing here, lurking outside a governor's house, sneaky as a thief — getting frightened by a bloody _cricket_, for scurvy's sake! — trying so hard to get a glimpse of a wedding reception he would most certainly not be welcomed to, while inside that magnificent hall, amidst the lights and music and extravagant celebration, people lived their wasted, luxurious lives in a world of their own? What was he doing here, when he should be at the helm of the Pearl, with the wind in his face, a bottle of rum in his hand, and not a care in the world?

It would be dark soon. Jack skulked forward again, until he was almost able to touch the golden windowsill. He stole a quick glance around, took a few more carefully measured steps, and peeked in.

The hall was huge, and to say it was filled with quite a number of guests would be an understatement. It appeared as though half of Port Royal had turned up; people milled about, engaged in polite conversations and sipping their drinks. Jack wondered if Will and Elizabeth — now Mr and Mrs Turner — would somehow learn of his presence and materialize at the window, where he was crouched. Not bloody likely. Perhaps he should gatecrash the party. Those drinks did look quite nice. But that would certainly result in getting himself thrown into a stinky, dirty, confining cell, which he really preferred to stay out of. So the rather appealing idea was dismissed and he remained hidden, still calmly searching the crowd for the newlyweds.

The crowd shifted, revealing a waltzing couple, the lady dressed in a white gown made of finest silk, long blonde hair piled elegantly atop her head, the gentleman donning a sophisticated coat, gently guiding his partner through the dance with slow, steady steps. Jack was unable to see their faces clearly, but since the spotlight of the entire room seemed to be upon the pair, he decided to risk a closer look by moving to another window.

It was them. Will and Elizabeth stood in the centre of the room, the light falling upon their shining faces serving to accentuate their features. The first thought which came to Jack's mind was, _The whelp can dance? Ha!_ But then, as he observed the two lovers dancing, completely lost in each other, he felt an unexpected rush of affection for them. Aye, the whelp can dance. Not too badly, either. In fact, one could go so far as to describe the lad as… elegant. And, needless to say, Elizabeth was captivating. To move lightly, smoothly and without effort gave her an exquisite beauty that was only enhanced by the graceful swirls of her flowing dress. The drowsy music followed the movements of sure feet across the polished ballroom floor, as did the admiring gaze of all those in the room.

And Jack knew. The reason for risking his life to watch a wedding, for leaving his crew scattered around Tortuga and Port Royal, and his beloved Pearl in a secluded cove nearby… was just to see Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann happy. Two individuals than whom he could not have come from a world more different, and yet, who were closer to his heart than he would ever admit to anyone. Star-crossed lovers destined to be together… and a pirate. Bound by the inexplicable twists of fate, and by friendship. It was friendship that had led him here.

William would be proud.

Though he supposed it was partly — alright, entirely — his fault that Bill could not be around to watch his son get married. Back on the Pearl, he had specifically told Bill not to leave the ship after informing him of the wedding. Perhaps yelling, _'You stay in my cabin, and that's an order!'_ had not been the most tactful way of doing so, but at any rate the message had gotten across. Just in case the anxious father managed to appear at the wedding anyway and shocked the couple to death, Jack had entrusted Gibbs with the responsibility of keeping an eye on him. Unless Bill was clever enough to bribe the old fool with a few bottles of rum, which could easily be stolen from his personal store, he should have nothing to worry about.

He couldn't help thinking, though. How would Will react, if his father had really turned up? Surely not in the same manner in which his crew had responded when Jack had returned to the Pearl with someone else. Those who had recognized Bill had seemed a little surprised (Gibbs had choked on an especially large gulp of rum), but otherwise no one had dared to interrogate the captain about how a person presumed dead was back on the ship. After all, only Anamaria would have enough fiery courage to do so, and she had not known Bill. To the rest, he was just another pirate, and they had simply accepted him as part of the crew.

But for Will… for a son who had been left on his own to survive in a strange, harsh environment, who had never really received the love and care of a father for more than twenty years, acceptance wouldn't come as easily. After the initial shock, there would be anger, he'd expect. Or rejection. In any case Jack very much doubted Will would run into his father's arms with shining tears.

The dance ended. Jack watched as the couple drifted around the room, thanking well-wishers. A respectful bow, a charming smile; Will was turning into quite the refined gentleman. And the lad was most positively glowing. Jack frowned. How was he supposed to break the news to him? It was unfair, really, that the responsibility of conveying the message should fall to him, for this was such a sticky situation that no matter how gently or tactfully his words were phrased, the impact of the truth would be just as great, yet since it was expected of the messenger to, by some means unknown, soften the blow for the recipient, when the time came for the telling it would inevitably be_ he_ who would have to take the blame for failing to do so. Jack frowned some more.

His gaze wandered over to the long satin-draped table where the drinks were… and spotted a solitary figure — why, if it wasn't dear Commodore Norrington! Poor chap had naught but a glass of punch and that wig for company. Though of course, he could hardly be blamed for not being in the mood for festivities. Losing a woman you loved would not fall under the category of Things Worth Celebrating, would it? In fact, the man seemed to be taking things quite well, considering the circumstances.

The commodore's stance changed slightly, as though he was vaguely aware of being observed. Jack tensed, crouching lower and watching warily while Norrington casually scanned the hall… and suddenly looked right at his window, causing Jack to duck immediately. Damn the man! At present he was staring at nothing but a block of bricks inches away from his face, with no way at all of knowing whether or otherwise he had been discovered, blast it. The pirate did not trust the commodore enough to think that he wouldn't come sprinting out of the house with ten redcoats, adamant on locking him up in the gaol a third time. Jack scowled at the wall. He could run. Escaping was what Captain Jack did best. Except… nothing was happening. Jack silently counted to five. Brows knitting together, he slowly raised himself and peered in. The commodore was currently amongst his stiff, straight-backed officers, seemingly exchanging a few friendly words. _Strange_, thought Jack. Had he not been seen?

At the loud click of a door, he scurried behind a nearby tree. A shaft of yellow light was cast across the dark lawn, momentarily blocked as two figures exited, one closing the door shut. Only their silhouettes were visible to Jack, from which he could tell no more than the fact that one was a man and the other a woman.

"Jack!" The hushed whisper held a note of panic. Jack's jaw nearly dropped right to the ground when he recognized the voice. "Jack! Jack, come out!"

"Jack?" came the female's calmer voice.

When they received no more than silence for a reply, the lady started advancing towards the trees, which prompted Jack to reveal himself. Hitting a low branch out of his way and conscientiously adjusting his hat, he stepped out from behind the tree and looked up into the stunned faces of the couple.

"Oh, hello, Will, lovely Elizabeth," said Jack mildly, as though he was making a casual comment regarding the weather.

"Jack! What on earth—" Will was abruptly interrupted by Elizabeth grabbing the arms of both men and hurriedly leading them away from the mansion, towards a small, dilapidated hut some distance away. Not until the trio had reached the safety of the worn-down shelter did any of them speak.

"Do take care not to be so rough next time, love," Jack pointed out, rubbing his arm with a slightly reproachful look at her, who snorted in a most unladylike manner.

"You shouldn't be here, Jack!" exclaimed Will.

"What, even you don't fancy seeing me? Oh, that really hurt, Will." Jack responded by dramatically putting one hand over his chest and letting out a long-suffering sigh. Will opened his mouth to argue, but before he could explain how risky it was for the pirate to be present, Elizabeth cut in.

"Calm down, Will. Jack's going to be fine here."

To that, Jack nodded his head rather vigorously, saying with a rather sly grin, "Your _wife _is right, Will."

The delicate emphasis on the word achieved the effect that was intended. Will blushed a little, and more to avert the focus on him than anything else, he inquired, "How did you know about the wedding, Jack? We didn't…" He trailed off awkwardly when he realized what he was about to say.

"Send me any invitation?" taunted Jack, pausing to watch the lad's face redden some more before deciding to put him out of his apparent discomfort. "Relax, boy, I ain't gonna shoot you over that. And the news of your wedding was all over town and beyond, did you really think I wouldn't know?"

"Well then, I expect you would be wanting to offer us your congratulations, wouldn't you, Jack?" Elizabeth smirked.

"Ah." Jack's face lit up in comprehension. Pressing his palms together and inclining his head in customary fashion, he continued, "My utmost apologies, Mr and Mrs Turner. However, I assure you that you will forgive me for that modest oversight on my part, once," he raised both forefingers, "I present you with a most precious item. As a wedding gift."

"Oh. What have you brought for us, Jack?" Will asked.

For a fleeting instant Jack felt a sudden mad impulse to declare, "Your father! TADA!" so that he would no longer have to rack his poor brain any further to find some approach to the matter, except that a tiny, rational voice in his mind reminded him that that might not be the most appropriate of ways to deliver the information to the couple. Now that Will had grown more at ease, the lad could not stop beaming, and a soft radiance shone from Elizabeth's face. They seemed so happy. Perhaps it would be a little cruel to break the news now.

"Thing is," replied Jack, "the item in question is presently hidden in a certain secluded spot somewhere in the garden outside your father-in-law's grand mansion. So, shall I go get it, or will you two fancy a little treasure hunting yourselves?"

And so it was that the trio found themselves back on the grounds outside the governor's residence, Will and Elizabeth keeping a silent lookout while Jack rummaged around in the bushes. Then there was a triumphant shout of "Aha!", which, naturally, gave Will a near heart attack.

"Jack! Be quiet! Are you trying to get us all caught, you fool?" he hissed.

Jack raised a remonstrating finger as he sauntered over. "As I've already informed you, Will, you need to lighten up. And guess what I've found?" He held up a bottle of golden, swirling liquid.

"Rum? You're giving us _rum_?" Elizabeth looked incredulous.

"What else does it look like to you, dear Lizzie?"

"That's your '_most precious item'_, then? Rum!" Elizabeth's voice was rising by the minute. Will chose to step in before the situation got of hand, for they were certainly going to be discovered if he allowed them to get any louder. Placing a comforting arm around his spouse, he said firmly, "Elizabeth, please, calm down." Then, turning to shoot Jack a glare, he added, "What were you thinking, Jack?"

"But this is from Isla de Ron! They produce the finest rum in the world!" Jack protested.

"That does not erase the fact that rum is a vile drink which—"

"Rum is not vile!"

"It—"

Jack threw his arms up in frustration and thrust the bottle into Will's hands, stating in a conspiring whisper, "Hide it well."

"Jack!"

Briskly cutting Will's objection short, the pirate said, "I really should be getting back to me ship." Taking a few steps back, he made to leave but spun around in the last minute, asking, "Do you two happen to live together now?"

The couple appeared rather taken aback. It was Will who answered, after a short silence, "Yes, we're moving into a new house. It sits on the hill near my smithy."

"Your smithy, eh? Rather fast, boy, aren't you?" Jack grinned at him approvingly before continuing, "Well now. I better go before the dear Commodore comes out with a bunch of redcoats and arrests me."

"Actually, Jack," Elizabeth's voice had a biting edge to it. "It was James who informed us of your presence."

"That's a surprise," remarked Jack. "I expect I'll be paying you two a visit sometime soon."

And with that, he left. As the pirate captain disappeared into the shadows, a lazy voice floated back. "Nice dance, Will."

TBC

**

* * *

**

A/N: Been saving what I wanted to say for until the end of this chapter. I watched Pirates 2! And as much as I wanted to fall in love with this movie, I honestly found that it was a disappointment. I know usually you shouldn't expect too much from a sequel 'cause the first is always better, but after months and months of waiting and what with the whole record-breaking sales thing, I thought it couldn't be too bad, even if it wasn't as great as the first. But after I finally went to watch it, it left me feeling kinda empty. I didn't like it. Yeah, the element of humour was there, and it wouldn't be fair to say I didn't enjoy parts of the almost three-hour-long movie, but frankly, there was too much action. Lots of confusing, chaotic (and mostly morbid) scenes which were really unnecessary. The plot didn't pull together nicely. And it seemed like all the main characters have turned evil. I know they're supposed to be darker, but often I couldn't understand their actions. I didn't like what happened to Norrington, Will was okay, and I disliked Elizabeth towards the end, especially because of the kissing scene with Jack, which was gross, but I guess the main reason was that Jack wasn't likable anymore. He was rather charming in the first one, and you guys may not agree, but in this he seemed like a selfish jerk. Which made me sad, because he really was my favourite character, before this. He may not be a hero, but he wasn't supposed to send Will to his death! Still, I did enjoy parts of it, and when you watch the scenes separately, like in the trailer, or when they show you the behind-the-scenes stuff on tv, it's really quite fun to watch. So I think since this is more of a filler installment for the next movie than anything else, the third one would be much, much better. Hopefully.

Reviews, anyone?


	5. Not About Tainted Blood

**Chapter 5: Not About Tainted Blood  
**

Anamaria pushed open the door to the captain's quarters, only to find its owner still lying in bed, slightly curled up under the thin, fraying blanket pulled up to his shoulders. The figure stirred, slowly lifted his eyelids, squinted blearily at the intruder in the doorway, then flipped over on his side so that his back was to her and peacefully resumed sleeping.

"Time to get up, cap'n."

"Five more minutes."

Anamaria marched over and set her hands on her hips.

"Will you drag your lazy bum out of bed, Jack, or do I have to yank this blanket off you?"

Turning back over to face his first mate, Jack looked up and scowled at her groggily.

"You do realize I sleep with my clothes off, don't you?" He yawned, stretching with cat-like grace, before giving Anamaria a roguish smirk.

"Or perhaps, you _are_ aware of that fact," he drawled, "and intend on taking full advantage of it."

"If I have to haul you out of this cabin naked to get you up, I would."

"I don't believe you," Jack said simply, still lounging comfortably in his bed with both arms folded behind his head.

For a moment Anamaria merely raised an eyebrow at him. Then she took a few steps forward, and, in one swift move, seized one end of the blanket and jerked.

Not having expected his first mate to be _that _determined, Jack was caught off-guard. He yelped, immediately snatching the edge of the blanket and wrapping it tightly around his waist. Furious and with his ego rather deflated, he glowered at Anamaria, who was unable to suppress a wicked grin. She folded her arms smugly, apparently quite unabashed.

"Now will you get up?"

Tossing a pair of breeches towards him on the way out, she exited the cabin, leaving Jack grumbling under his breath, "Women."

* * *

When the pirate captain finally emerged from his quarters, something instantly felt amiss. There was a distinct lack of activity on deck, which was to be expected seeing as the night before he had permitted the crew to go ashore. However, what had caught Jack's notice was that a certain fretful father was nowhere to be seen. Sitting alone with her back against the mizzenmast was Anamaria, working in a somewhat bored manner."Ana! Where's the crew?"

"You gave them all two days of shore leave, cap'n. Most of the men left for shore after you came back in one piece last night. Been hit by a bout of memory loss overnight, or are you just being your usual, indescribably stupid self?"

"Picked up some of my vocabulary, I see," replied Jack. Otherwise ignoring the light-hearted insult, he asked, "The rest?"

"Marty and Cotton went to get supplies. Bootstrap left with them."

"When was that?" The question was sharp, urgent.

"Less than half an hour ago."

Jack muttered a silent curse. He had a sneaky suspicion why Bill had gone ashore, and the actual motive probably had nothing to do with getting supplies or even having a drink. Damn. Perhaps he should not even have disclosed the fact that the couple had moved comfortably into a cozy new home, for the blame would undoubtedly fall on him should the reunion between father and son not go as flawlessly as was wished, though what was wished was nigh unattainable.

"Jack?" Anamaria's voice was softer now, lined with concern.

"I'm going ashore. Take care of the Pearl."

* * *

Bill wandered up the sun-splashed, smoothly paved streets of Port Royal, occasionally stopping a passer-by to ask for directions. Having slipped off the decks of the Pearl at late dawn with the intention of finding his son, he was now contemplating the idea that his hasty decision could bring about unwanted and possibly disastrous consequences. Perhaps waiting might be a more favorable choice, for he still had no idea what to say if and when he did meet Will. On top of that, Bill was well aware that Jack was probably going to blow his top when he eventually found out, yet sitting around helplessly till the absurdly jaunty captain figured out a scarcely feasible plan had been an unbearable notion. He had to see Will.

It was not long before he reached the little residence that belonged to the newlyweds. It was a small, delightful cottage, from its cheerful redbrick walls to the vibrant blossoms in the immaculate private garden. Pleasant and warmly inviting, the couple's modest two-storey accommodation was surrounded by blissful tranquility, which had a slight calming effect on Bill. Taking a few quick steps to the plainly carved wooden door, he raised a trembling hand and prepared to knock.

* * *

"Stupid, rash, thoughtless, irrational… preposterous! Ah, yes, preposterous old fool…"

Jack tried very hard to keep up a steady stream of various negative descriptions about his friend as he searched for the subject of his verbal abuse, making his way around Port Royal in the general direction of Will's very own smithy, near which, according to the Turner lovebirds, their home was located.

"Stupid, stupid blighter… ooh!" Jack stopped short of crashing into a tree that had been most unreasonably planted in his way. Dark-rimmed eyes widened as soon as he became aware of where he had arrived at. Crouching behind the previously detested tree, he observed the cottage a short distance away as Bill lifted his fist with all intention of rapping on the door, only to bring it down a moment later.

Jack chose to emerge from his hiding place in that instant. "Afraid?"

"Wha—?" Bill spun around, heaving a great sigh when he realized who it was.

Frowning, Jack said, "I asked first." Then, leaving to inspect a window close by, he continued, "If you mean to do things without my permission, at least _try_ to do so without letting me find out about it, savvy?"

Bill was confused, as most people who stayed around Jack often were. Not even attempting a reply to that, he watched the captain, who fiddled around with the latch a little and successfully got the window open with practiced ease. Surprised, Bill decided to speak.

"We… are going in." The statement was more of a question.

"We are going in," confirmed Jack. Seeing Bill's brows knit together in bewilderment, he rolled his eyes. "Since we're here, might as well, aye?"

"Aye… if you say so," the older pirate answered uncertainly.

"Trust me."

Flashing a grin, Jack climbed through the window with the agility of a monkey. It proved somewhat more difficult for Bill when he tried to do the same, though eventually he, too, got through the confined opening and landed alongside Jack in an empty room that was simply furnished with brightly colored floral curtains, light woods and other neatly arranged items.

Jack proceeded through the room. Unable to resist, he pocketed a gold bracelet unwisely left on the desk, without Bill's notice.

"What exactly are we doing in here, Jack?"

_Stealing_, his mind supplied at once.

"That depends on the exact purpose of you quietly removing yourself from me ship and appearing at the doorstep of this house," he responded evenly, turning around to face Bill.

"It's just… Will doesn't want to see me."

"Ah, but you want to see him." Jack gazed expectantly at him.

Bill bowed his head, momentarily silent. Finally he said, "I—"

"Will?"

The sudden call of Elizabeth's voice caused both pirates to jump, and Jack's first instinct was to hide somewhere, anywhere. They looked up, only to find Will standing on the stairs with an unreadable expression on his face.

* * *

"Chief!"

The tall, dark-skinned woman running towards him had a look of anguish on her face, and at once Chief Cheeto knew she brought bad news. It was the same look that he had grown uncomfortably accustomed to seeing, what with the recent string of events that had occurred on the island. A wave of dread washed over him, and he stood up very slowly.

"You should see this," the woman told him softly. Beneath the urgency of conveying the message was a suppressed sense of loss, a silent note of grief in her voice that alarmed him.

Wearily he followed her forlorn self, his mind conjuring up all sorts of distressing images. Even before he saw the bodies he knew there was death.

Up till then, it had been fires burning down acres of land, food mysteriously going bad, terrible injuries; bad, but not the worst. Yet this time, the gods had decided to go one step further. For the first time, the gods had taken life away.

They stood on the rocks at one of the more secluded parts of the beach, somber. At their feet two children no more than ten years old lay lifeless, unmoving. Across the sea, the shrill, soulful cry of a gull broke the stillness of the day.

Chief Cheeto gazed out over the waters.

"Hurry, Bill."

* * *

Bill opened his eyes with a start. His mind was reeling from everything he had just seen take place on the island; it had been so real, the woman informing her chief of… something bad, then leading him to the rocks, where—

"William!" It was Jack's voice. "What the blazes happened to you?"

Blinking, Bill tried to come up with a coherent answer, but right then it seemed almost impossible. He tried to organize his thoughts. "It was— I saw…" Only then did he spot his son looking awkward in a position a few feet away. "Will?"

_Will certainly looks like his father_, thought Elizabeth. Silently she looked on as father and son were reunited, yet not so. She had no idea how Will was going to react.

He didn't. Merely continued to stare down at his feet, not uttering a word. One would think Bill had been saying the name of someone else entirely.

Resigned, Bill turned back to look at Jack. "I had some kind of a dream… no, it was more like a— a vision…" Desperately he tried to recollect all the details of the experience and recount them to Jack, as clearly as he could, but they were slipping away like fine sand through his fingers. However, of one thing he was sure.

"Two children died."

Elizabeth stifled a gasp. Bill was vaguely surprised at the response, but he made no comment. An inexplicable sense of grief weighed down heavily upon him. He had delayed far too long. He had been unable to prevent the deaths of two innocent lives, and it was he who had to be responsible for that.

"The idol, Jack. I need to recover it." Jack glanced at Will, then scrutinized his old friend carefully. Bill averted his gaze.

"What's this about an idol?" Elizabeth spoke up. "Jack?"

Jack plastered on a grin. "At your service, milady."

"If you could please explain matters to us."

Patiently, Jack informed her of what he knew regarding the idol of Isla de Ron. He noticed Will shuffling off, and looked at Elizabeth seriously.

"We leave port at dawn, love. There's not much time, savvy?"

"Aye," she replied quietly. She watched the two pirates let themselves out of the house, before retreating to the bedroom that she shared with Will.

She found him sitting in bed with an open book in his lap. On normal occasions, she would have laughed. Will hated reading.

"I rather thought," she mentioned gently, "you had accepted the fact that pirate is in your blood."

Elizabeth said nothing further. She only waited.

Finally, Will came out of his silence.

"This isn't about tainted blood." Elizabeth noted that his body was shaking slightly. "He was never around, Elizabeth. He left us! Left us for a life of seafaring and pirating."

She put her arms around him, a wordless effort to offer some shred of comfort to the hurt young boy inside him, to protect him in some way.

"His love for the sea was greater than that he had for his family," said Will. It nearly broke Elizabeth's heart to hear the bitterness in his voice.

"Will, I think you need to know," she spoke carefully. "Your father… he's going to die without that idol."

TBC

* * *

A/N: I'm back! It certainly has been a long hiatus. Took my time with this one, as well as went back to older chapters to edit some stuff and uh, sorted out the entire plotline, where I'm going to go etc. I wouldn't dare hope for reviews, but I'll continue writing anyway, now that I have slightly more time for myself. But uh, do let me know if there're any improvements I can make, yeah? Like, regarding the first scene between Jack and Anamaria. Honestly, I think it was kinda redundant in terms of moving the story along, but I just couldn't bear to cut it out. Heh.


	6. Endangered Bananas

A/N: If you're wondering about the ridiculous title, it was kinda inspired by my friend's conviction that bananas are going extinct. She's absolutely sure about it, so we all best start saving our… long, yellow… friends. Anyway, this chapter was done rather fast for uh, my usual standards. I hope it's good.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Endangered Bananas**

In the soft darkness of the night Anamaria stood at the railing of the Black Pearl, staring out at the vast waters, pondering over events of late. Jack had not told her much, only that they were going after an idol of some sort that belonged to Isla de Ron; she highly suspected that the captain did not have a whole lot of information to begin with, either. It appeared to her, though, that awaited them all was the dangers of a perilous hunt, a voyage that the Black Pearl would be set to embark on, not because of the adventure that usually called to their daring captain but because he was obliged to do so. For a friend.

Anamaria understood very little of who Bootstrap Bill Turner was to her captain. What she was aware of she had heard from the crew, or from Jack himself on the extremely rare occasions where he was willing to discuss his past. She would always listen intently, slowly piecing together bits of information regarding the man she still didn't know enough about. There were days where she thought she would never be able to truly understand him.

She saw Gibbs pass by, and decided to call out to him.

"Gibbs!"

The older pirate froze in his tracks, the bottle of rum in his hands lifted midway to his mouth. Curiously he lowered it, wondering what Anamaria could want with him. At times, she could be almost as unpredictable as Jack. He retracted a few steps and stopped right in front of her.

For a while Anamaria seemed to study him contemplatively. Then she asked, "What do you know about the idol of Isla de Ron?"

That surprised Gibbs. Why would Anamaria be wanting to find out about such an item? But Gibbs was always glad to have an audience for his stories — not that he would dare refuse telling the feisty lass all he knew. So, with a swig of the rum, he sat down and began to talk.

"The idol of Isla de Ron," he said as he carefully observed Anamaria, "is cursed."

Pausing, Gibbs noticed her eyes had darkened significantly. Blimey. Was this what daft Jack had gotten himself into, now?

"See," he continued, "years and years ago, centuries, some say, the wise old chief of Isla de Ron saw that his people were suffering. Going mad with hunger and despair, they were. So, one night, he performed a ritual."

Anamaria raised her brows. "Voodoo?"

"Aye, voodoo. He hacked off the tails of a dozen monkeys and tied them to himself and set the ends on fire. Made a deal with the gods, that as long as the poor and suffering people believed in them, as long as their united faith never wavered, they would be blessed.

"After that, they prospered. The sugar plantation thrived, and long before I had been introduced to the sweet intoxicating elixir that was rum they had grown to become one of the top producers in the Caribbean. Best bloody rum in the world, in my opinion." He took another long draught from the bottle.

Anamaria chewed on her lip, brooding. "How is the idol cursed?"

"Well, lass, if the idol is ever misplaced, or forcibly taken away from the island, once it is no longer in its rightful position… terrible, terrible things happen."

"Like?"

"Bananas." Leaning forward, Gibbs dropped his voice dramatically. "They go extinct."

Exasperated, Anamaria rolled her eyes, determinedly resisting the temptation to slap the man. What he believed in puzzled her sometimes. Then again, Gibbs had an extensive knowledge of the tales that floated in the Caribbean, endangered bananas or not. She would trust that there was at least some degree of truth in his words. In any case, it was probably safer not to doubt the stories that surrounded curses, no matter how absurd; it was something she had learnt from the encounter with an entire crew of undead pirates. In fact, she had always thought it was best not to involve oneself with curses and the gods at all, for such situations tended to get very, very complicated. Yet somehow said circumstances were where Jack always seemed to wind up in, although, if it made things any fairer for him, Anamaria supposed her captain didn't much enjoy it himself. Now that he had managed to get entangled in this whole cursed idol business, she could only hope that he and the crew would all survive whatever they were about to set sail straight into.

* * *

He wondered how Bill was doing.

Was he still on the island? It was likely that he had long left and was, perhaps, already happily reunited with his son. He knew Bill had been getting ready to go that very night, before the idol went missing. Stolen.

He also wondered about everyone else he had lived with on the island for the past two months, about how they were presently doing and how they had reacted to his own sudden disappearance. What about the idol? Surely it wouldn't require a great deal of intelligence to figure out who had done it.

Kip lowered his head in shame. Those were people who had believed in him, had accepted him and treated him as one of their own. It hadn't been difficult for him to gain their trust, of course; after all how many innocent young lads who washed up on shore harbored dishonest intentions towards their rescuers?

He passed the captain's cabin. Captain Tylor had been spending an unusual amount of time locked up in his quarters recently, mostly with his merchant friend whom Kip only knew by the last name Scoft. Having simply been ordered to obtain the idol by his captain without much of an explanation, Kip's grasp of the things going on around him was limited. Though he had not a clue whatsoever with regards to the significance of the idol, the seemingly inconsequential object was clearly very important to Captain Tylor, and even more so to Scoft. Kip had to suppress a shudder as he remembered the man's reaction at the sight of the idol. Scoft had been thrilled, grabbing the idol with eager hands, but what greatly bothered Kip was that gleam of hidden malice he had caught in the merchantman's eyes, as though they were a wildcat's.

"Kip! Get back to work!" A holler from the bo'sun shook him from his thoughts. With a small sigh, he returned to work, banishing to the back of his mind disturbing scenarios of his captain being deceived, of betrayal and loss.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

No reply came. Elizabeth paused in the midst of writing and looked up at her husband worriedly.

"Will?"

He did not meet her eyes. "I… I need to talk to him."

Accepting the hesitant answer, Elizabeth went back to composing the letter that they were going to leave for her father, in case he dropped by and happened to notice that the house was somewhat empty. However, she had realized that past the first two words, finding an appropriate manner of phrasing herself became considerably trickier. The paper looked depressingly blank.

How should she begin? _Dear Father, Will and I are going on a long honeymoon voyage that has nothing whatsoever to do with pirates. Please do not send the Royal Navy out to search for us. _No, that would most definitely not do. Vexed, she cursed softly. Will appeared not to have heard, seated beside her with his head buried in his hands.

* * *

Anamaria's attention was suddenly diverted by the three dark figures who had just stepped on board. One of them was unmistakably Marty, judging from his build; the other two were less easily distinguishable, but they struck her as suspiciously familiar…

Gibbs had discovered it as well. His eyes widened when he recognized who they were. "What…"

Standing up abruptly, Anamaria briskly made her way over to the captain's quarters and barged in without first knocking on the door.

"Captain." She noticed then that Bill was in the cabin too, acknowledging him with a respectful nod. "It's Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann."

"Will?" Bill sprang up immediately. "He's here?"

"Aye."

At that, he rushed out of the room. Anamaria waited wordlessly by the door for Jack, who swiftly donned his hat and walked towards her.

"It's Elizabeth Turner, actually," he pointed out lightly, shooting a small smile at his first mate before striding out onto the deck.

Bill was standing beside Gibbs, some distance away from Will and Elizabeth. The old quartermaster was in a pitiable position indeed, glancing mournfully at the empty bottle in his hand every now and then. Relief broke out on his face as his captain finally came up to them, Anamaria closely behind.

"Well!" Jack declared brightly, clapping his hands together. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence, Turner lovebirds?"

Elizabeth gazed pointedly at Will, who turned away, silent. When it became apparent that he was not planning to explain himself anytime soon, Jack bent forward with his brows furrowed together, saying as he loomed to near an inch from Will's face, "You two ain't lost, are you?"

Will shifted a little, uncomfortably aware of the pirate's close proximity as well as everyone's eyes on him.

"No, Jack, we came here for a reason," answered Elizabeth.

Jack straightened himself, facing her instead. "I expect you'd be intending to stay… long?"

She nodded.

"Good. The two of you may take Anamaria's cabin."

Anamaria, who had been quietly observing the proceedings all this while, flared up at once. "They ain't taking my cabin!"

"Actually, I think they are, love." Jack's voice was mockingly gentle.

She glared at him. "Why _my_ cabin?"

"No worries." Jack flashed a roguish grin at her. "You can sleep in _my_ cabin instead."

"And you can sleep out on deck," Anamaria snapped and stormed off.

Jack spun back to face the rest.

"Now that that's settled," he muttered, his gaze landing on the quartermaster, "Gibbs! Come and have a drink with me."

A look of utter bewilderment passed over the older man's face.

"You too, Elizabeth," ordered Jack.

Comprehension dawned on Gibbs then, and he, along with a rather affronted Elizabeth, followed the high-spirited captain, leaving Will and his father to themselves.

* * *

A distinct sense of desertion overcame Bill as Jack, Gibbs and even Elizabeth headed off, leaving him completely alone with Will. Their intention he understood well enough, but at the same time he very much doubted his son felt as thankful as he did for the opportunity. To his amazement, Will did not seem at all resentful, or upset. That gave Bill the courage to speak. Carefully he asked, "What changed your mind?"

"I need to know." Will kept his tone even, tried to keep all emotion out of it.

Bill waited.

"Why did you come back?"

Bill found that he could not reply. It was a question he had honestly never thought about. He knew why he had left, so many years ago; he did not know the true reason for his return.

"It was not because you cared. You never cared enough."

The words cut deep. But he could not deny the truth of it. He had left because of his selfish love for the sea, for a life for freedom, one that was not tied down by promises and commitments. Yet, he did not feel regret. If he were given the chance to start over, he thought perhaps nothing would change. He would still want to meet Eleanor, to fall in love with her and start a family, to leave and return to the sea. He would still choose to hurt Will, so that he himself could live. Had he come back for redemption? For his son's acceptance? He did not know.

When he was aware of reality again, the sight of an empty deck met him. Will had left.

* * *

"Give him time. It takes more courage to accept another person into your life than to stand all alone."

Bill sighed. Time, it seemed, was something he did not have in his favor. The issue of the lost idol had become ever more pressing in light of the two evitable deaths, so very recent that the same raw feeling of loss and emptiness still dragged at his heart. Guilt rose up within him. Far away, on the island, the lives of people were hanging by a thread, all their hope pinned on him. They ought to be setting sail right away, not only at daybreak.

Before him, Jack had his head bent over his work, quietly writing. Sheets of fine linen paper, exquisite quills and a small bottle of ink were strewn about the mahogany table in his cabin. Fleetingly Bill wondered when the fierce dark-skinned woman called Anamaria would come to drive them out. Jack, however, did not appear to be remotely concerned about that. Bill could tell there was a special bond between the two of them, something that extended past a captain-first mate relationship, beyond friendship, even. It had come as a surprise, actually, to see that Jack was fond of the lass. Ever since the mutiny, he hadn't thought Jack would allow himself to let his defenses down to anyone anymore. Yet here he was, comfortably sitting with his back to him, exposed and vulnerable. Even after so long Jack trusted him.

Just then, Jack spoke, so unexpectedly that Bill jumped. "We could set sail earlier, you know. Before dawn. Anamaria and the others will gather up the rest of the crew."

"Will you help, Jack?"

Bill thought he hadn't really meant to ask that. Perhaps it was because _he_ was the one who had lost faith in human nature, or because Jack had seemed nearly all too willing to help though it was never in any profit for him — he needed a confirmation. From the only friend he had left in this world.

When Jack replied, the words that reached Bill's ears were almost familiar, as if he had been expecting to hear them.

"Only if I get lots of rum, mate."

TBC

* * *

A/N: Why doesn't Bill regret what he did? Why would he still choose to leave his family? Is Bootstrap Bill evil? All these are questions even I don't have answers to, my muse just told me to portray Bill Turner in this way. Will you review? Please?


	7. The Hunt Is On

**Chapter 7: The Hunt Is On**

The crew of the Black Pearl stood crowded around their captain, listening.

"…so, we set sail now."

"And what be the reason we're going after this ship, Cap'n?" The pirate who had spoken looked slightly disgruntled, and he was not the only one. Many of the crewmembers were feeling less than pleased with the captain's sudden decision to set sail.

"The reason, Duncan, is that there is something very, very _precious_ aboard that ship," replied Jack, surveying the crew, "and we want it."

"So… we must set sail _now_?" Marty asked. Muttering and general dissent ensued.

Jack raised his voice. "Aye, I'm afraid we must. Is there a problem?"

The crew fell silent. Satisfied, Jack nodded to himself. "Good. I thought not." Then a crease appeared between his brows. "But—"

"But?" echoed Gibbs.

"But?!" repeated Elizabeth, almost angrily.

"Awk!" squawked Cotton's parrot.

Jack rounded on the bird immediately. "You stay out of this." Sternly he gave it a jab with his finger, and it fled, taking off in a flurry of colorful feathers. Jack turned back to face the crew before continuing, "But. I deeply regret to inform you, gents, m'ladies, that we do have one tiny little problem which, unfortunately, deters us from immediately setting out after the boat on which there be said wanted object, keen as we all — some of us — are on doing so."

Anamaria, who had been quietly listening all this while, now said, "The Avenger has gotten too far ahead of us."

"Right you are, love."

Frowning, Elizabeth asked, "We can't catch up to them, is that it?"

"Ah!" Jack's face lit up in a grin. "Wrong."

For the first time since they had gathered on deck, Will spoke up. "Do we have a heading?"

"It is in no doubt that the Pearl will be able to catch up _provided_ we know which direction to head in. However—"

"The Avenger is headed for the port of San Juan."

The sudden, unexpected assertion from Bill caught everybody by surprise. Neither the abruptness with which the claim had been made nor the questionability of it seemed to worry Jack, however. Without hesitation, he announced, "We have our heading! Make sail for San Juan!"

While Anamaria, too, began shouting orders, Elizabeth consulted Bill. "How is it, then, that you are completely certain about this heading… yet failed to make any mention of it prior to now?"

Bill was taken aback. Elizabeth's tone expressed no disrespect, only genuine puzzlement. Her sincere and accepting attitude brought a delicate warmness to his heart. Close by, Will was lending some of the pirates a hand in heaving on the ropes. He never once looked at Bill.

"Was it also a vision?" prompted Elizabeth.

Letting out a slow, long breath, Bill said, "No, it wasn't a vision. I didn't know before, either. All I can tell you, lass, is that… I am certain."

* * *

In his cabin, Scoft was intently poring over a large map on the illuminated table, unaware of the intruder that stood at the door, silently watching. Every so often, his left hand drifted to the small, coconut-like object tied to the hilt of his sword. He drew a quill and made a mark on the corner of the map, the action sharp and precise. Candlelight fell onto his face, the warm, golden glow reflected in his eyes.

Tylor observed the merchant. He knew no warmth could be found in those cold, hard eyes. This was a man he had once spent years serving under, a man he had never seen drop the impassive, commanding tone of his voice whenever he spoke to any member of his crew. Nevertheless, he, Tylor, had agreed to this, to aid Scoft in obtaining the idol that now hung by his side. Granted, the gold Scoft had so conveniently offered would suppress thoughts of mutiny in his crew. But Tylor had never refused any of his requests, because of one reason.

A distant memory came to his mind. It was the closest he had ever come to knowing death, the day Captain Wood's ship had been sunk. For days, he had floated at sea, alone, abandoned by the world. In that instance, he had learnt despair, lost all hope of rescue. But rescue had come, and, hauled aboard a merchant vessel, he had been given water, protection, a second chance. Tylor never forgot. It was Scoft who had allowed him to remain on board, had given him a place to live. And though he doubted Scoft would have kept him aboard if not for the fact that he made a good extra pair of hands, Tylor knew he was still indebted to him.

Yet, as he gazed at the man before him, he could muster up little gratitude. Perhaps it was due to the conversation they'd had, not too long ago. Scoft had been reluctant to tell him much, only explaining that with the idol in his hands, Isla de Ron would be destroyed. By 'destroy' had he meant taking lives away as well? Scoft did not say. He only cared that in so doing, he would be rid of his greatest rival in rum trade.

Tylor stopped observing, and quietly walked away. He had decided this would be the final time he would acquiesce to a deal with Scoft. Once they reached port, his part of the bargain would be fulfilled, and they would go their separate ways.

* * *

Anamaria was beginning to wonder if it was possible that Jack had made a mistake. Six days they had been traveling now, and still there was not a sign of the Avenger on the horizon. In fact, they had not passed a single ship, whether merchant, pirate or Navy. The crew worked diligently and without complaint; they were a loyal bunch, willing to follow their captain wherever he led them. But Anamaria realized that to set out for San Juan based on Bill Turner's words alone had been, perhaps, their only choice. No doubt Jack was aware of that as well. Lack of information had left them with no other course to pursue, save this.

She closed slightly weary eyes, breathing in the sharp, clean tang of the sea while the wind whipped back her hair. Subconsciously she transferred the bulk of her weight onto one leg.

"Still hurts?"

Anamaria turned around to face Jack, who sauntered over, gesturing inquiringly at her right ankle. Having injured it during a raid a short while back, she tried not to put too much pressure on that foot, though it was now slowly recovering. "'S fine," she quietly replied.

The shout of "Sail ho!" from the crow's nest caused both heads to snap up. Anamaria tensed, her fingers instinctively tightening around the helm of the Pearl. It was yet too early to try to determine what ship it was. She watched her captain. Jack was staring out over the brilliant blue waters, his eyes alert, focused on the smudge of white that broke the horizon.

"She ain't flying any colors, Cap'n!" came the call from above.

Pirates, then. A slight frown drew Anamaria's brows together. Could it be that Bootstrap Bill was right after all?

Jack pulled out his telescope, peered through it and grinned dangerously. "It seems the captain of the Avenger and I are going to have a friendly little chat."

* * *

Tylor had maintained an unruffled composure when the bo'sun had entered his cabin to report that a ship with black sails was on their trail and steadily gaining on them. A short, silent nod had been his response, showing nothing but calm acceptance of the news. Then he had simply dismissed his subordinate without any orders. They would continue on their journey, and there would be no moves made to either confront or avoid the ship.

In truth, Tylor could not have been more astounded by the information. He could not think what the infamous Black Pearl would want with them, for no past dealings existed between both parties. Certainly they were not going to attack a fellow pirate ship. And Tylor had least expected a meeting with the nefarious captain of the Black Pearl — Jack Sparrow.

He almost smiled at the thought. How interesting that their paths were about to cross again. Sparrow would not realize, of course; he would not recognize him. As Tylor recalled the terrible events of his past, the deep, bitter sorrow which he had carefully kept back for so long rose very close to the surface. It was a rehash of the old hurt, memory smarting like a reopened wound, a wound from too long ago, yet time never healed…

This time, Jack Sparrow would pay.

* * *

TBC


	8. Leverage

**Chapter 8: Leverage**

Jack paused briefly and purposefully on the threshold.

The cabin was small and plainly organized, much of its space occupied by a fine wooden table in the middle of the room. Shafts of sunlight slanted in through the stern windows, the light caught in a glint of silver off a simple ring that lay innocently on the table together with some papers, quills, maps and navigational instruments, and a leather-bound book. A heavy chair was pushed back as its owner stood up.

Grinning, Jack stepped into the room. "Hello, Captain."

A young, fair-haired lad strode forward, pulling his leather hat low over his deep green eyes. Jack was surprised by the youth of the man before him, though the emotion was subtly concealed. It was difficult to imagine that this individual held command over an entire crew of dangerous, unruly pirates, for he could not be more than a few years older than Anamaria. The lad must be capable indeed. Furthermore, he came across as decent, nearly respectable — he could certainly use a few baubles in his hair, Jack thought.

Tylor decided to introduce himself. "Captain Tylor."

"Captain Jack Sparrow. And would that be your first name, or your last?"

Tylor ignored the question. He watched uneasily while Jack walked over to the table, running one hand along the elaborate carvings on its edge. "What brings you aboard the Avenger, Captain Sparrow?"

"Nice desk you have here," Jack commented, unceremoniously plopping down in a chair.

Tylor calmly seated himself opposite the intruder. Warily he asked, "What do you want?"

At last Jack seemed to settle down. Leaning back, he folded his arms and met Tylor's cool gaze. "If I'd made the unwise decision of answering that question we'd both face the inconvenient prospect of my continued presence aboard this ship by nightfall, savvy?"

Tylor did not react. Jack Sparrow was known for his crafty ways. Despite his slightly mad, outlandish appearance, which could be no more than a façade, Tylor knew better than to let his guard down in front of this man. He did not doubt that Sparrow would be able to manipulate the most unfavorable situations to his advantage. Who would know if this was just another trick up his sleeve?

"Nonetheless, out of the various desirable items currently in your possession… there is one I came here for." Jack bent forward conspirationally. In a low voice he said, "The idol of Isla de Ron."

* * *

"Jack has his ways, missy."

Back on the decks of the Black Pearl, Gibbs and Elizabeth were having a discussion regarding Jack's plan to 'swing over to the Avenger, exchange a few civilized words with the captain, pick up the idol on the way out, return to the Pearl'. It seemed to Anamaria, however, that the conversation was coming precariously close to evolving into a heated argument, at least on Elizabeth's part.

"Dubious and unorthodox ones, yes," Elizabeth was saying, skepticism evident in her voice. "I hardly believe the captain of the Avenger is going to hand over the idol simply because Jack requests so."

When Gibbs only shrugged and took a gulp from his canteen, she burst out indignantly, "Shouldn't we sneak aboard and search for it, or raid their ship, or something?"

Gibbs chuckled. "If I didn't know better I would've thought pirate was in your blood, lass."

"We have nothing to negotiate with, nothing they want!"

Elizabeth's words were immediately followed by a sudden scream that came from below decks. Anamaria was on her feet at once, sprinting down the stairs with Gibbs and Elizabeth directly on her heels.

They found Will in a distressing state, curled up in a dark corner with his hands over his head. Sweaty and pale-faced, he was shivering violently, eyes tightly shut against whatever horrors tormented him.

"Oh, God, how could anyone not have noticed…?"

Elizabeth rushed forward and, dropping to her knees beside him, she raised a hand to his cheek, shocked to find that his skin felt cold as ice. "Will! Will, look at me, please…"

Will let out a moan.

"I'm here, Will, it's me, it's Elizabeth. Everything's going to be fine…" Tears of anxiety and fear pricked at her eyes. "Will, look at me…"

Slowly, Will's eyelids fluttered open. For one heart-stopping instant he simply stared at Elizabeth with wild, terror-filled eyes, clenching her wrist in a death grip. Then, his harsh, ragged breathing slowed, although fright clearly showed on his face.

"Elizabeth…"

Trying to ignore the fearful pounding of her heart in her ears, Elizabeth forced a weak smile.

"Missed me?"

That brought a truer smile to her lips. Will had not let go of her arm, but his voice was stronger now. Already some of the color was returning to his face, the shivering beginning to subside. Placing a tender kiss on his forehead, she asked, "What happened?"

A few members of the crew barged in at that moment, likely wondering the very question Elizabeth had just asked. Bill was amongst them, his expression extremely worried.

Will managed to get to his feet shakily. "'M fine."

"Best get back to work, then." Anamaria gave the pirates a significant glare, and they filed out of the room. To Will she said, "I'll see to the rest of the crew. They probably want to know what happened." Briskly she walked out, Gibbs trailing behind her.

Bill, who had remained behind, took a few tentative steps towards Will. "Are you…really alright?"

"Aye." Will turned away slightly, breaking the eye contact. Nodding acceptingly, Bill left the room.

"You could've asked him to stay," Elizabeth said softly. Will met her gaze sharply, defensive, but what anger he was about to direct towards her drained away once he saw the melancholic look on her face.

When he spoke again the words came out in a sad whisper. "No, I couldn't have."

Elizabeth understood. She pulled Will into a gentle embrace. "I didn't miss you," she told him in a playful tone, "not so soon after you'd just gone." After they broke apart she looked at him more seriously. "What exactly happened, Will?"

"I'm not too sure, either. I, uh, had a dream even though I didn't fall asleep, if that makes any sense to you."

"Maybe you fainted?"

"Maybe. I don't know, I can't remember. But the dream…" Will drew a deep breath before continuing. "I saw people dying. Burning. Drowning. Some even killing each other."

It had all been frighteningly real. Bodies writhing in agony, engulfed by the merciless flames; helpless individuals being swept away and dragged down under by the currents; but what was most disconcerting was the pure, animalistic bloodlust in the eyes of those slaying down their comrades.

"Will?"

Elizabeth was looking very concerned. He gave her a faint smile. "It was only a dream."

"We should get back on deck. I think Jack has returned."

Will knew she was unconvinced, but he was glad that she did not probe further, for he had seen something else… something he had no intention of telling Elizabeth or anyone else entirely. In the dream, there had been one person standing aside from the dying people, unharmed, watching from a distance with completely black, unblinking eyes as Death took them all.

It had been a ghostly shadow of his father.

* * *

"Yep, we reached an accord. Continue on to San Juan. We'll have a bit of waiting to do there, though." On receiving Jack's instructions, Anamaria nodded shortly and made her way towards the helm.

"What did you agree to trade for it?" Elizabeth had come out on deck with Will, whom the pirate captain noticed was looking rather paler than usual.

"You look bloody awful," Jack informed Will with careless lack of tact, then turned to Elizabeth with a frown. "What did you do to him?"

Elizabeth spoke before Will had the chance to explain anything. "I'll tell you if you tell us about the agreement you reached with the captain of the Avenger."

"We meet at San Juan, we make the exchange, we leave."

"That still leaves us the problem of you not telling us what is going to be traded for the idol," countered Will.

Jack waved an airy hand. "Well, as you said, that's _your_ problem, not mine."

"What are you using, Jack?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "As _leverage_."

A strange look crossed Jack's face, but it was quickly replaced by his trademark grin. "Leverage? Who mentioned anything about leverage?"

So he was intending to hide it from them, then. Elizabeth knew there would be no point in pressing the matter, seeing as Jack was perfectly capable of evading answering all her questions.

"Will still looks bloody awful."

"As do you. But he shall soon recover from the scare he's had." Throwing Jack a critical, disparaging look, she smirked and added haughtily, "I would be much more concerned if what Will suffered from was a combination of arrogance and a dreadful sense of fashion."

* * *

Elizabeth Swann.

When Jack Sparrow had mentioned her name, Tylor's reaction had mostly been bafflement. More than several stories about the girl involved a certain notorious pirate, but Sparrow was supposed to have saved her life, was he not? Not just once, but twice, from what he had heard. Yet… the man had actually agreed to trade her freedom in exchange for the idol. In fact, he was the one who had proposed so. "_Custody of the governor's daughter would allow you to extort more gold than whatever measly sum you've been offered, mate,_" he had said, lounging in his seat, completely relaxed and seemingly indifferent to the girl's fate. And Tylor had to wonder what lengths Jack Sparrow would go to for his own purposes.

"Captain? What do you plan to do when we reach San Juan?"

Tylor faced the bo'sun, and evenly replied, "I shall be going ashore with Scoft. Inform Kobe, Daniels, Feltzer and Miller that they are to come along."

"So many people, Cap'n?"

"Aye. After all, we have a captive to take on board."

TBC

* * *

A/N: To anyone reading this,

I SHALL NOT BE DAUNTED BY THE DISAPPOINTING LACK OF REVIEWS!

That said, I'm still holding on to the hope that someday, someone would send me a nice little review regarding my work, which would definitely brighten up my day, or even a not so nice review, which I'd be thankful for anyway. All these serve as a great form of encouragement to the writer, y'know, even if it doesn't seem like much.

And yes, school has started. I won't have so much time to write anymore, but there's no way I'm going to drop this story. Also, I'm not too sure about this chapter, but I hope it's not bad. I would say that there's been way too little Jack, actually. (Aww.) However, the next one's where the action's gonna come in.

I think I've rambled too much. I must say, though, that Good Charlotte's new song The River rocks! Love the guitars in it. You can hear the song on their official website, it's great. Okay, now I'm really rambling. Plus I have no idea why I'm _still_ not mugging for math.

Just one last thing: Anything you want me to improve on, just holler!


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